Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has contentions? Who has complaining? Who has wounds without cause? Who has redness of eyes?
Those who linger long over wine, Those who go to taste mixed wine.
Do not look on the wine when it is red, When it sparkles in the cup, When it goes down smoothly;
At the last it bites like a serpent And stings like a viper.
Your eyes will see strange things And your mind will utter perverse things.
And you will be like one who lies down in the middle of the sea, Or like one who lies down on the top of a mast.
"They struck me, [but] I did not become ill; They beat me, [but] I did not know [it]. When shall I awake? I will seek another drink."